Caledonia
by fringeperson
Summary: Where do the souls of Creations come from? The Baron didn't say, and Haru didn't stop to wonder. Oneshot. I own nothing. Complete.


_A/N: I've taken out the lyrics of Celtic Woman's "Caledonia" from this, so it's no longer a song-fic, but if you would be so kind as to listen to that song while you read, you'll get the right feeling. Thank you._

~oOo~

"_Whenever someone creates something, with all of their hearts, that creation is given a soul, you see?"_

...But where do these souls come from?

Haru never stopped to wonder about that as she enrolled in every art and craft class that she could. For ten years she learned. Every piece she made was a test, a practice, a learning experience before she began her true project. Then for six years she made exclusively what she and her mother called 'bread-and-butter pieces', and she made them at a feverish pace.

'Bread-and-butter pieces' was a phrase that had come from Haru's grandmother. She had come to Japan from somewhere in Europe to be with her sweetheart. Naoko had gotten her red hair from Haru's grandmother.

"Beautiful, artistic pieces that take months to create are all very well, but few people are willing to pay what such a thing is really worth any more," Louise had told her daughter, and Naoko had told _her_ daughter. "So pieces that were beautiful but _quick_ to make are necessary, so that they can be sold quickly at what the customer calls a 'reasonable' price, and then bills can be paid and food can be put on the table."

With her business established, Haru slowed down a little. She no longer worked on her 'bread-and-butter' from dawn until late, but began to set herself to working on the piece that she had dreamt of for so long. This piece would not be quickly made at the same time as thirty others, and good enough for sale. No, _this_ piece would have all of Haru's attention when she worked on it.

The dolls that Haru made during the week, mass produced and thirty at a time, were cloth. Good for little girls to hug tight. On weekends, Haru carved simple, rigid wooden statues instead and painted their uniforms with bright, glossy colours. Good for little boys to set as commanders over their toy armies. The project that Haru now set aside her mornings and evenings for was not going to be like either of those.

She'd only made a marionette once before. It had been a simple doll with few features. The course she had taken to learn how hadn't really given enough time for creating expressions. It had been about learning the mechanics of giving a doll joints that moved freely and correctly at the tug of a string.

This project wasn't going to be a marionette, but it would take advantage of the things Haru had learned in that course about different joint types.

She started with the feet, and carefully carved each individual toe. The ankle was difficult. The joint needed to have the ability to bend, after all, but Haru was also determined that it would _look_ like an ankle. A lovely, delicate ankle. Not just some lumpy ball-joint.

~oOo~

Haru gave greater attention to every detail of this one doll that she worked on only 'outside of regular working hours' than she did to any other doll she sewed or carved to sell in her little shop. The ankle was sanded smooth after a month of dedication. Then another month to replicate that perfect little ankle over the other foot.

It didn't matter to her that, when this doll was complete, that the carefully carved toes (with toenails even), and her delicate ankles would be hidden when she was finished. It didn't matter to her that her best friend from high school thought she was nuts for dropping her social life completely in favour of working on the doll. Haru hadn't ever been a social butterfly before, too busy working hard to make sure that she would always have stock for her shop.

Besides, the last time Haru had let Hiromi take her out for some social thing in the evening, she'd been made to drink until she was drunk enough to let Machida kiss her. She was _not_ pleased with her friend about that. A high school crush that she'd gotten over within a week of admitting it to her friend wasn't something that should still be brought up years later.

Haru shaped and sanded the calves, and was frustrated over the knees for three weeks. Knees, Haru decided, were very difficult to make look anything but knobbly or wrinkled. But she did finally manage it.

"Haru, did you raid my fabric stores for doll dresses again?" Naoko asked.

Haru chuckled softly. "Yes Mama," she answered. "I did, but then, you aren't quilting as much as you used to any more."

Naoko rolled her eyes. "I just wish you'd _ask_ first. That's all. So I'll know that I don't have some particular fabric any more."

"I will," Haru promised absently.

"You always say that," Naoko said with a fond sigh. "You always forget."

"But I always get more fabric to replace what I took," Haru countered with a smile.

"That you do," Naoko agreed.

~oOo~

Haru was thirty-four when she started the doll. She was thirty-eight when the body was complete to her satisfaction. From the toes to the fingers and every joint in between. She spent an entire year on carving and painting the face of the doll, and making sure that the whole body was treated with a paint that would prevent the wood from rotting.

She very carefully glued in hair that she had saved from a recent trip to the hairdresser, so that the doll was no longer bald. Another four years of her life were spent making clothes for the doll. She initially made a simple, lovely dress, but it wasn't _right_, and so she had tried again. And again and again and again until she finally had the _right_ outfit for the doll. The others were carefully folded away and put into a three-inch high, undecorated wooden 'treasure chest', and then Haru picked up the doll from her resting place and carefully dressed her.

The white cotton socks and underwear had been on the doll since they were made, now Haru pulled on the ivory blouse with buttons so small that the only way to push them through the button holes was with a pair of tweezers. After that, Haru pulled on the trousers-skirt creation she had finally settled on. The trousers were fitted at the waist, and hung down in elegant bell-bottoms, but most of the trousers were hidden by the large billowing skirt of the same creamy-yellow fabric that hung over them but stopped about half-way down the doll's shins.

Next, Haru reached for a frock coat the same colour as the trousers-skirt on the outside, and lined with a deep emerald green. Careful not to bunch up the sleeves of the blouse, Haru pulled the coat onto the doll. After the coat, Haru picked up the tiny, brown leather shoes she'd laboured over for months, and slipped them onto the doll's feet.

"You're not finished yet," Haru told the doll, and carefully set her once more on the cushion where she always set it when she had to work on something else for a while.

Haru spent another four months carefully crafting a tiny parasol for the doll, one that would open and close just like a proper parasol. The very last thing was a tiny little creamy-yellow pillbox hat with an attached veil, held in place with a tiny hat pin decorated with a single, real, deeply-coloured emerald that Haru had been fortunate enough to find in its natural sate, and skilled enough to be able to shape herself in her workshop, though it took her six months.

"There," Haru declared with a smile. She was forty-four years old, but still smiled like a child as she manipulated the doll through a dance that went from one side of Haru's work table to the other and back until Haru set the doll on her cushion once more. "Now all you need is a name, and you will be finished," she said. "What would be a good name for you?" she asked the doll softly, and hummed in thought before breaking out into giggles that sounded as though they came from a girl much younger than she was now.

"You can have my name!" Haru decided.

Then her heart gave out.

~oOo~

The exquisitely crafted doll glowed as her maker slumped in her chair, and blinked when the glow faded. Carefully, cautiously, the doll tested her finely crafted ankles without the aid of a human holding her up, and when she was sure of her ability to stand on her own, she climbed down the body of the woman who had crafted her.

She slipped out through the cat-flap that no cat had ever used, and down the dark, deserted street. It was a left-turn into a pathway between houses, and then continue on as the way got narrower and narrower, only just wide enough for a single person to squeeze through. At the end of that, a pathway paved with green bricks led to an archway that was the only entrance to a cobbled courtyard ringed by houses that were more suited to someone _her_ size than the size of the woman who had made her. In the centre was a tall column with a stone crow at the top.

Only one house in the courtyard gave off the light of occupation, and she stepped up to the door to knock.

"Good evening," she greeted, and curtseyed to the one who opened the door to her.

"Good evening," the other answered. "Welcome to the Bureau, and to the Refuge, Miss...?"  
"Haru," she answered. "It's Haru."

The green eyes of the one who had greeted her went wide. "Oh my," he breathed.

"The woman who created me gave me _her_ name," the doll explained.

"And she gave you her soul as well, didn't she?" the other asked.

The girl nodded. "But not all of her memories," she added.

"Then permit me to introduce myself, I am Baron Humbert von Gikkingen. The artisan who created me gave me that title. It... it _was_ his, before he gave it to me," the cat-faced gentleman said softly.

Haru nodded in understanding.

"Please Miss Haru," the Baron said, "come in and have a cup of tea."

"Thank you Baron," Haru answered.

~The End~


End file.
